Cold Comfort
by Emerald1
Summary: The team is tough, except when they're not. Written for the h/c bingo on livejournal. Today's prompt - Minor Illness.


**a/n - I've been running around like crazy for the last couple of days, but here's a surprise story for you guys. A one-shot (yeah I know, what a shock) warm and fuzzy story. I'll be back Monday with more of _Aftermath_.**

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Cold Comfort

The rusty, croaking sound might have been 'hello', but Tony wasn't totally convinced even if he did feel guilty for calling. "Man, Probie, you sound like hell." There was another, longer sound that somewhat resembled 'what do you want, DiNozzo' so Tony went with it. "The TAD Vance sent us from cybercrimes left in tears, third one this week. Ziva tried to run the search herself, but – the bright side is that she gets a new monitor as soon as the janitor gets all the glass shards picked up."

A third, still longer pause, before what Tony hoped was an agreement to come in, but the rawness of the garbled words made even Tony's throat hurt. "We owe you, big time. See you soon." Tony hung up the phone just as Gibbs walked in.

"He coming in?"

"I think so." Tony shrugged before picking up the file on his next suspect. "He's pretty hoarse, it was hard to hear him."

"Doesn't need to talk to run a search. If he finds something, you can do the calling for him." Gibbs grunted as he sat down. The virus had run through most of the agents aboard the Yard, even Gibbs had had a sore throat for an afternoon, but he hadn't let it slow him down. McGee had gotten soft during his time in cybercrimes, but now that he had the team back together, Gibbs planned on getting him toughened up again in no time.

Less than an hour later, the man in question dragged himself off the elevator. Tony looked up, his grin falling off his face almost immediately. "You look even worse than you sounded, Probie."

Tim just gave a slight wave as he trudged over to his desk, dropping his backpack next to the chair before falling into it. He was pale under the flush of fever, dots of perspiration on his forehead and Tony noticed how his hands shook as he reached for his keyboard. Worried, he glanced over to see Gibbs' reaction.

Gibbs studied the ill man for a moment before rummaging through his drawer. After finding what he wanted, he walked over to McGee's desk and dropped a notepad in front of him. "Here, write notes for us instead of talking. Wave it around if you need to get our attention and if that doesn't work, hit DiNozzo over the head with it."

"Hey." Tony gave his expected bark of dismay, but he was secretly pleased to see the slight grin on McGee's face. As he watched, Gibbs subtly pressed the back of his fingers against Tim's forehead, checking for fever before announcing a coffee run.

Looking over at the full and still hot cup of coffee sitting on Gibbs' desk, Tony wasn't at all surprised when the cup Gibbs returned with had the string of a tea bag sticking our from under the lid and was set on McGee's desk along with a small bottle of Tylenol. Ducky's arrival a few minutes later wasn't a surprise either.

"Well, young man, let's take a quick look at that throat of yours, alright?" Ducky set his medical bag on Tim's desk and pulled out what he needed before snapping on a pair of gloves. Under the watchful eye of the rest of the team, Ducky tutted and fussed as he looked at McGee's throat.

"How many days have you been ill, Timothy?"

McGee held up his hand, all five fingers up, before then holding up just one finger. Ducky's eyes widened. "Six days? Why on Earth haven't you seen a doctor before this?"

Sighing, Tim picked up his phone and scrolled to his calendar app. A doctor's appointment was shown four days earlier and another appointment scheduled for tomorrow. While Ducky noted the doctor's name, McGee dug out a prescription bottle out of his backpack.

Ducky recognized the antibiotic. "Well, obviously this isn't working. You were tested for strep, I assume? And it was negative? When McGee nodded to both questions, Ducky handed the bottle back. "I'll call him personally and see what we can do about this. You keep sipping that tea and no talking. Your tonsils are badly infected."

Tim nodded before returning to his search. He'd been living with it for days, he knew how bad it was. Ducky watched him for a few moments longer before walking over to Gibbs.

"Well?"

"His throat looks like ground beef, Jethro. Is it really necessary for him to be here?"

"Case has been stalled since he got sick. We need a break."

"And Timothy needs rest and plenty of fluids." Ducky gave Gibbs a knowing look before leaving.

"Here you go, McGee." Ziva dropped a handful of individual salt packets on his desk. "Sea salt would be better, but this is all we have in the break room." When he frowned in confusion she set a coffee cup down next to them. "Gargle with warm salt water, it will help."

Ducky returned with a different bottle of antibiotics less than an hour later. Tim obediently swallowed it down under the watchful eye of his team before Tony vanished, returning with a carton of chicken noodle soup.

"Here you go, Probie. You need to eat something with your pills." A raised finger reminded Tim not to talk, so he smiled his thanks before starting to eat.

Two hours after lunch, Tim found the connection between their victim and one of the suspects. Waving the notepad over his head, he caught everyone's attention and pulled up the information on the plasma. Gibbs gave a proud nod and ruffled his hair before sending the other two to pick him up. By the time Tony and Ziva returned with the man in handcuffs, McGee had found over a dozen calls between the suspect and the victim's wife, ending twenty minutes before the estimated time of death.

The last piece of the puzzle was the fifty thousand dollars funneled through a dozen banks and three countries before arriving in an account owned by the suspect. The wife's lover was convinced they would get away with it until Gibbs laid out the financial trail showing each step of the transactions, ending with the funds now frozen at a bank in New Jersey.

Proud, but exhausted, Tim leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes while Tony and Ziva watched Gibbs in interrogation with the suspect. Asleep, he didn't feel the coat Vance draped over him before returning to his office. Nor did he stir when the warm lemon compress was wrapped around his neck, but the black lipstick print on his forehead left a clue as to its origin.

"Come on, Tim, let's go home." More than one set of hands got him upright and headed for the elevator. Obligingly, he put one foot in front of the other, but let his caretakers determine his direction. Vaguely, he was aware of being put into a car and the car moving.

It wasn't until the car stopped and was shut off without the familiar thumping of driving over the metal grate that covered the driveway into his apartment that Tim opened his eyes. They were parked in Gibbs' driveway and the man himself was behind the wheel. The croaked 'Boss?' was almost recognizable and Gibbs seemed pleased.

"Think those new antibiotics are starting to work, McGee. Let's get you inside."

McGee felt himself being lifted out of the car, even as Gibbs was talking, which confused him until he realized that it was Tony supporting him. Gibbs joined them and before Tim could object and claim that he would be fine on his own, he found himself wearing sweats and heavy socks and tucked under a warm blanket on the sofa.

Settling in with a sigh, Tim blinked slowly, the image in front of him changing with every blink.

"Here you go, buddy. Take your pills like a good Probie and you can sleep for a while."

Blink.

"McGee, you must not become dehydrated. I have fixed you some warm water with lemon juice and honey. My mother would fix this when I was a child in Israel."

Blink.

"Ah, Timothy, your throat is looking much better. Did I ever tell you about the time..."

Blink.

"You awake, McGee? I'm supposed to let you sleep, but I didn't want you to worry about Jethro. I'm going to stay with him at your apartment and take really good care of him until you're better."

Blink.

It was dark and the first time he'd awaken to silence. Tim tentatively swallowed. It hurt, but not like the burning pain of earlier. A warm hand rested on his head, the thumb stroking across his forehead. Content, he let himself be pulled back under. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs sat in the darkened house, only the fireplace giving any light to the first floor. It had taken hours to clear the rest of the team from his home, but finally peace reigned and his youngest boy slept undisturbed. A car backfired a block away and McGee shifted as he started to wake. As he had done a lifetime ago when Kelly was restless, Gibbs laid his hand on Tim's head, cupping it gently as he rubbed his thumb on the now cool forehead. He watched Tim snuggle down into the pillow as his lips moved in the barest of whispers, but the man standing watch heard it and smiled. "You're welcome, son."


End file.
